


Reverberate

by JuweWright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, F/M, Fluff, Music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is someone singing in Hogwarts at nighttime. And Hermione finds there is the actual possibility of love at first note...</p><p>"It was such a sad tune and it cut right into her heart, making it ache with longing for some far-away land where there was no fear and where no Lord Voldemort had ever risen again."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Another idea that originated on the Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations board on FB. I intended it to be a one-shot but then again, I am ridiculously bad at one-shots, so it's probably going to have a couple of short chapters instead.
> 
> Disclaimer: I neither own Harry Potter nor anything to do with it. It all belongs to JK Rowling and that's whom I bow to in admiration. I don't earn money with this and just hope people like it.

The first time she heard it, Hermione was just on her way back to the Gryffindor common room from the library. She had lost track of time whilst doing her homework for Ancient Runes and now she was in a hurry to get back to the tower, before Filch or Mrs Norris caught her in the corridors after hours. As a prefect she had to set the example for other pupils and being out that late was definitely a no-go. Half way up, one of the staircases decided to play a trick on her and moved, so she had to take an unexpected detour which led her through an unused corridor that Fred and George sometimes liked to try their newest inventions in because hardly anyone ever came this way. It was just when she rounded a corner in an almost-run, heart racing, when her ears caught the sound. 

Someone was singing. A male voice. She did not know the song. She had been around young wizards and witches quite a bit, but Hermione had not really caught up with their music. There were a couple of bands she liked but most of them were Muggles and the twenty percent that were wizards had been introduced to her either by Ginny or by Fred. But although she had never heard it before, the melody was enchanting and whoever sang it, put all their heart into it. It was such a sad tune and it cut right into her heart, making it ache with longing for some far-away land where there was no fear and where no Lord Voldemort had ever risen again.

She slowed down a bit to catch her breath and to linger a bit longer and listen. She still could not exactly locate where the voice came from, but it fascinated her to hear someone sing in the old castle in the middle of the night when everything else was silent. The singer was pretty sure what he was doing. His voice did not falter during difficult passages. His intonation was perfect. Yet, Hermione could tell he had had no formal training. He did not do any of the typical “show-off” things, professional singers often did. He did not use a vibrato on the long notes, but only held them right where they were for a prolongued amount of time. It seemed almost impossible anyone had enough breath to hold a note that long without struggling. He did not smash into the high parts as if his life depended on it either. His voice seemed fragile when he hit the higher notes, but it never broke. It was like watching a talented child paint: So innocent, so unusual, yet so perfect.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”, a sturdy little witch in one of the portraits to her left said with a sigh. “I've been hearing it ever since the term started. At least once a week.”

Hermione stood still and listened as the voice launched into the refrain of the song again. There was so much hurt in it, so much feeling. It sent shivers down her spine. She only dared to turn and address the tiny witch minutes after the final note had echoed through the hallway and faded.

“Do you know who it is? Did you ever see him?”

She just needed to know. She needed to find out, whom this dark, warm voice belonged to. She needed to find this person.  
The witch shook her head.

“I only hear him. I have never seen him. I tried to run through the portraits one night to catch him, but I don't even know where exactly to look for him, because the echoes in this corridor are very strange indeed and they sometimes make you believe someone is talking on your right, when they are really talking five feet behind you.”

The old witch sighed again and lowered her head, just to suddenly look up again, with an eager look on her face.

“You should find him, girl! I know, you can find him. And when you've found him, you have to bring him here so I can thank him. It's such a delight to listen to him. Promise me to find out who it is! Promise me!”

Hermione smiled and nodded.

“I promise”, she murmured and sneaked off up the stairs just a minute before Mrs Norris strolled down the corridor, eying the portraits with her shiny yellow eyes.


	2. Lumos

Hermione had never believed in love at first sight. Her love-life had usually been based on slowly developing more-than-friendships. Victor had been her first boyfriend if you could count him as such. There had been some awkward kissing between them but she had pretty soon realized that their story was doomed to be a short one. For a while she had thought she fancied Ron, but that had worn off again. 

A lot of people – first and foremost Cho Chang - suspected something was happening between her and Harry, but although Harry was much more than a friend to her, he was more like a brother than like a lover to her. She could not imagine kissing Harry. That would feel so wrong. And of course she knew about Ginny's feelings for him. The young Weasley girl had confided in her more than once and together they had come up with a strategy that might or might not work but at least it had forced Ginny to be less awkward around her brother's best friend now and caused Harry – without him noticing – to include her in his circle of friends.

Almost nobody knew about Fred. They had kept it silent. She had never believed he would keep his mouth shut in front of his twin and Lee Jordan, but he had kept their secret. They both knew it wouldn't last, but it was a game which they were both willing to play and the secrecy gave it some extra-thrill. It had developed in an instant and faded back to friendship within a couple of months. 

There had not been a guy in her life for a while now. But that did not explain the effect the incident in the corridor had had on her. She could hardly concentrate on Professor Binns' lecture in History of Magic the next morning, but thought that was merely due to her being a bit overtired. But when she failed completely in transfiguration and turned her mouse into a flower pot instead of a tea cup, she almost lost it. The voice was still in her head and it was still singing. She had asked Ginny whether she knew the song, staying as close to the truth as possible and telling her she had heard someone sing it in the corridor and found it quite a nice melody.  
Ginny had shrugged and settled more comfortably in her arm chair in front of the fire in the common room.

“It's pretty popular actually. It's called 'Lumos' and it's by Phil and the Whispering Whistles. It was a big hit about five years ago. Fred was obsessed with it. At some point, my mum told him she'd have him do the dishes by hand for five days straight if she heard him hum it one more time.”

She grinned. 

“I didn't know you were into soft rock, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione turned her head to stare into the flames and hoped the reflection would hide her blush.

“No, seriously”, Ginny said, laughing. “You're not telling me the whole truth about this, are you? I got the impression you did not have secrets from me any more. But perhaps I am mistaken.”

Hermione sighed. Perhaps it was best to tell someone. If she manage to kill a Unicorn in Care of Magical Creatures next or accidentally melted her cauldron in Potions class, at least Ginny would know she was not going mad. Or perhaps she was going mad after all. How could someone's voice throw her off balance like that?

“So – are you going to find this guy?”, Ginny asked after Hermione had told her the truth about how she had come to hear “Lumos” for the first time. 

Hermione tried to read in her friend's face whether she was really suggesting she should hunt down that foreign man to tell him she had kind of fallen in love with his voice. 

“I... I might.”  
“You should. I saw you stare at a piece of parchment today for about half an hour writing absolutely nothing. Hermione Granger does not stare at empty pieces of parchment unless she is either really ill or really upset or – in the current case – very distracted by a voice she heard. A male voice...”

Ginny could not hold back any longer, she burst out laughing.

“Damned, Hermione, you actually fancy a phantom. I'm impressed.”

Hermione frowned. Sometimes Ginny could be annoyingly like her twin brothers.

“If you don't go haunting the corridors at night from now on until you've found your prince, I'll be very displeased, young lady”, said Ginny with a wink.


	3. Revelation

Haunting the corridors proved unfruitful for weeks. Hermione made a point of lingering in the library longer than she was supposed to and walking through the corridor with the portrait of the tiny witch as often as she could, but she did not hear the voice again. She tried to keep her wits together during class though, as she did not want Professor McGonagall or any of the other teachers to ask her, whether everything was all right.

She could not really hide her feelings from Harry though and after he cornered her one morning after breakfast and interrogated her in his best concerned brotherly fashion, Ginny and him both shared the secret with her and often inquired after her progress.

“Nothing”, she said, slapping one of the books she had borrowed from the library onto one of the tables in the Gryffindor common room with such force that the leather binding came off.

Ginny made a tutting noise, shook her head and asked what Madame Pince would say, if she had seen her favourite girl do that to a book. While Ginny repaired the book with a flick of her wand, Harry had come over from where he had been trying to do his homework and sat down on the table with a questioning look on his face.

“So?”

Hermione shrugged.

“I haven't heard that voice again. It's been weeks and I am not one step closer to solving that riddle. It's so annoying."

Ginny sighed.

“Are you sure you have never heard that voice before?”

They had been through this already and Hermione shook her head in desperation.

“I don't know. I would say, I have never heard it. But then voices sound differently when you sing than when you speak especially if people are good singers, their singing voices have nothing whatsoever to do with their speaking voice. I am pretty sure it's nobody from Gryffindor though. With all that “Weasley is our King” chanting, I have heard all the singing voices from our lot.”

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. There seemed to be a mute understanding between the two. Obviously they had pondered on how to help their friend for a while. Harry got up and pulled something from his pocket.

“I think you need this”, he said handing the Invisivbility Cloak to Hermione. “And this”, he jumped back to where his potions essay was still lying on the table and his school bag was resting against a chair and pulled out the Marauder's Map from between two books.

Hermione looked down upon the two items. Something inside her was very much against this plan, but the bigger part rejoiced. She had been out in the corridors after hours so often. She was a Prefect, all right, but if nobody saw her, she did not set a bad example for younger students...

She knew she was making excuses, but she really needed to find out whom the voice belonged to.

“Thank you, Harry”, she said and had climbed out of the portrait hole again before him and Ginny had managed to say another word.

Ginny looked at her friend with a bemused expression on her face.

“Who is that girl and what did she do to Hermione Granger?”

Hermione had a plan. She was pretty sure she would recognize the voice if she heard it again. As she could rule out all the Gryffindors, what she needed to do was to check out the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs to find out whom it belonged to. She pushed the thought that her invisible prince might be a Slytherin as far to the back of her head as possible. She found her way to the Hufflepuff common room in the basement close to the kitchen with a little help from the Marauder's map. She lingered there until a latecomer opened the door for her and she could enter the room after him. Her ears pricked, she stood in a corner for about an hour, but no voice seemed to fit the one she had heard in the corridor.

She repeated the procedure the next night, spending about two hours in the Ravenclaw common room. But again, she did not hear any voice that even remotely resembled the one that had bewitched her. Of course, her own argument still was valid. She might not recognize the person if their singing voice was very different from the way they spoke. Still, she could not help but feel disappointed as she finally gave up and walked back towards her own common room.

She rounded a corner at the height of the Prefect's bathroom and froze on the spot.

…

And he bought her a broom and a cauldron

And told her “do never forget, you are mine”

He gave her a kiss and off he went The dragon to slay or to die

 

She lived in their hut by the river

And she brewed a potion so fine

And she hoped he'd come back to her someday

And she prayed that he would not die

 

But dragons are dangerous hideous beasts

And the fire it burnt him to ashes

He never returned to his hut and his girl

With the golden hair and the long lashes

 

And when she found out he had died in his quest

She wept seven years and a day

And she took her cauldron and hopped on her broom

And she flew far, far away

 

Nobody has ever seen her again

For many years and many days

But they say when she cries for her long lost love

The sky will cry too and it rains

 

Hermione almost dropped the Marauder's map. Her hands were trembling. Shivers were running down her spine and she had to lean against the wall to keep her legs from giving way under her. This time, she even knew the song although she had not liked it much when she had first heard it in the Weasley's kitchen where Mrs Weasley had sung along to it's interpretation by Celestina Warbeck. It was – Fred had explained to her under his breath – an old song, a folk-tune that had been around for at least a hundred years and had been interpreted by a number of musicians in the Wizarding World.

The melody was simple and the story was nothing exceptional but the foreign singer had sung it in a way that had hit home immediately. How could anyone have such a voice? A voice that cut right through you and filled you with longing and desire? That made you want to laugh and cry at the same time? That made you want to dance for joy and weep for sadness? Hermione noticed she was still clutching the map and a thought struck her. She could find out who it was now. Whoever was the person singing like this was in the Prefect's bathroom right now. She was literally a spell away from knowing his name. With trembling hands she drew her wand and placed the tip on the parchment, promising it that she was up to no good, which was not exactly true. The lines appeared on the paper, drawing the Hogwarts grounds, then the little moving dots appeared. The Gryffindors were all in the common room or in their bedrooms as were the Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Dumbledore was pacing his office, Snape was in the dungeons and Mrs Norris and Filch were on the fifth floor where they had been joined by the small dot that represented Peeves the Poltergeist. But Hermione's eyes were drawn to the spot on the map where her own name was written next to a tiny dot in the corridor and to the Prefect's bathroom that was only a centimeter away on the Marauder's map. She took a deep breath before she focussed on the one tiny dot that was situated right inside the bathroom and read the name next to it. The next moment she clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle the scream that almost escaped her.

The tiny writing next to the tiny dot spelled out the name of none other than Draco Malfoy.


	4. The Dancer

Six years earlier.

Draco Malfoy had lost his way. That did not happen often. After all, he was a big boy already. He did not get lost like stupid kids did. He usually always knew exactly how to get back to Malfoy Manor when he was playing in the meadows and he also always knew his way back to the Crabbe's house where him and his parents visited often as they had a boy his age – though a rather dumb git who wasn't much use for anything but to stare at Draco in admiration and applaud everything he did. Draco had been distracted by the big snow flakes that were falling. The first snow of the year always was something special and he had run through the white powdery flakes trying to catch them with his tongue. And now he was in a part of town where he had never been before and Crabbe – who had been at his side only minutes ago – was nowhere to be seen.

Draco did not panic. He was a big boy. He was smart. He only needed to use his brains and he would find his way back out of this – he looked around him with a sneer – Muggle-infested hell of a place. He pulled his cloak tighter to keep the cold out and started walking down the road, following his own footsteps which were already vanishing under a new layer of snow. He turned the corner to the right and stopped in his stride. There was music in the air, a piano was playing a classical tune nearby. Draco liked music. His mother played the piano from time to time. She had a soft spot for Mozart although that guy had been a Muggle and his father despised him greatly. She had taken him to the Opera once behind his father's back to watch the Magic Flute. He had liked Papageno most, that funny bird-fellow. Not only because he was a cool character but also because he had the best songs in the play. Sometimes, when Lucius was not there, his mother played Papageno's arias on the piano while Draco sang along.

The tune came from a large building which Draco recognized as a school. Muggle children went to school from when they were six years old. Very different from wizard children who learnt to read and write and other essentials from their parents and were only sent to school when they were eleven. Draco would be going to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry from autumn on. His father had considered another school, Durmstrang, which had a better image as they only accepted pure blooded wizards as their pupils whilst Hogwarts accepted Muggle born scum as well. His mother had been against that though and as there was no getting past Narcissa Malfoy in a rage, it had been decided Hogwarts would be okay for the start. He would be sorted into the house of Slytherin as had his whole family and Slytherin was good, because they still valued the old families.

There was light in a row of windows on the first floor. This must be where the music came from. Draco saw a couple of dustbins that were conveniently placed beneath one of the windows and climbed them with the quick movements of a child that knew exactly what it could do physically. He had to stand on tiptoe to look into the window and the bins started wobbling, so he steadied himself with his hands against the wall below the window sill.

There was a young man playing a cheap piano which was standing in the corner of a large open room with wooden floors and a slightly older woman in tights and a weird suit that was ridiculously tight and stuck to her body like a second skin, who was facing a group of fifteen girls who were all dressed similarly to her.

Draco was ten years old and he had never cared much for girls. The ones he knew were all completely useless, giggly idiots and he preferred not to spend time with them at all. The ones in the room did not interest him much more. The only remarkable thing about them was, that they all looked the same. They all wore their hair in a bun, they all were quite skinny and they all seemed to have only one facial expression: a fake grin that betrayed the concentration it cost them to follow their teacher's commands.

“And plier, and grand plier and up and front and side and back and side, and back to first position, pas de basque, pas de baspque, half a pirouette, full piourette. Look at the mirror, don't turn your head until the very last second or you'll get … oh Miss Granger.”

One of the girls had stopped following the routine and was instead following the music now. She turned gracefully, jumped high in the air crossing her feet twice. The piano player smiled and started playing livelier while he watched her over the rim of his glasses as she whirled around the room. Her hair was so curly it did not stay in the bun but had escaped from it in several places and stood off in weird angles. She was a bit smaller than the other children and her smile was real, a smile that reached the eyes and made them sparkle. She followed the music as if it was the most natural thing to her. She did not need to think of positions and routines, her feet moved so lightly it almost looked as if she were flying. Draco could not help but stare. This was fascinating. It looked like she did the same thing when she was dancing that he did when he was singing. She was following an instinct rather than a learned process.

The teacher started yelling at her and forced the piano player to stop playing. The little creature deflated like a balloon. With sagging shoulders she received the complaint of her teacher and then was sent to leave the room. She went over to the windows to grab her street shoes and clothes. Draco did not react quickly enough and so, when she looked up, their eyes met. He was sure she would say something. Tell the others there was a spy outside. But she didn't. She just looked at him for a long moment with a calm and thoughtful gaze, ere she grabbed her stuff and almost ran out of the room.

Draco lingered in the snow for a while to see if she would come out, but she didn't until a car pulled up and a woman went inside who looked exactly like the curly haired girl. That must be her mother, Draco thought. And he regretted he had not just gone in to say hello. But could you just walk into a Muggle school? Weren't there guards or protections? And what should he have said to her anyways? Perhaps he should have told her that he had enjoyed to see her dance and that her teacher was an idiot if she did not understand what her pupil was feeling.

“What are you doing here, son?”

His father had appeared next to him and his hand pressed down on his shoulder as if he wanted to ram him into the earth feet first.

“I lost my way.”

“Crabbe Junior came home alone, told us he had lost you.”

“I just got distracted by the snow, father.”

“I would be disappointed if you got lost again. I don't like to go looking for my almost grown-up son.”

"It won't happen again, father.”

Lucius Malfoy gave off an impatient sigh and then told his son to grab his lower arm. A second later, the snow was falling on an empty street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to figure out where to go next with this story. I needed to find Draco's way into this somehow and this was what I came up with.


	5. In Somnium Migro

Draco liked to walk around the hallways at night. It was not merely the thrill of listening for every footstep that might betray one of the teachers or Filch patrolling the castle in search of disobedient students who refrained from being in their common rooms after the curfew. No, it was also the fact that he could be alone for a while. He had worked on his popularity with the Slytherins from day one, because that was what a Malfoy did. He was respected, feared and loved. And he was almost always the center of attention. An extroverted mind would have enjoyed every second of it, but Draco – contrary to popular belief – was not an extrovert. There were days when all he wanted was to curl up in an arm chair with a book and have nobody talk to him. But the role he played made this impossible. Draco Malfoy was a brand and he knew how to sell it. It was just a bit tough sometimes. 

His regular escapes from the Common Room were known to almost all of the pupils in his house. There were legends of what he did when he sneaked out at night time, legends that ranged from dumb to fantastic. He let them prosper. It was all part of the show. The boring truth, that he left the Common Room to have a long bath in the prefect's bathroom, sing some of his favourite songs while lying in the hot scented water, and walk aimlessly through the hallways unobserved afterwards, was a secret and would stay a secret forever.

This evening, he had sneaked out a bit later than usual. Pansy had been reluctant to leave his lap. Lately, she had become quite clingy and he didn't know whether he should encourage her behaviour or not. She wasn't ugly, but in his eyes she would never be more than a friend. He was pretty sure he could not tell her that, though. She would probably be hurt and not speak to him again, and he liked talking to her because she could actually have a conversation with him instead of just nodding to whatever he said as the two most stupid beings on this planet – Crabbe and Goyle – did.

When he finally closed the door of the Prefect's bathroom behind him, he did so with a relieved sigh. There had been a brief moment when he had thought he had seen Mrs Norris shadow on the walls, but it had turned out to be an illusion that had been caused by a conveniently placed torchlight and a big ugly spider. 

He turned some of the tabs on and and got rid of his clothes as quickly as he could. There was nothing better than a nightly soak. He slid into the warm water which smelled of sandal wood and lemon grass and closed his eyes for a second while he felt his body relax. It had been more than a week since he had last escaped from life in this manner and he had been pining for a pause from society.

So, finally, here he was. His breath became slower and more steady, his heartbeat slowed to a low throb. The room was only lit by the moonlight that filtered through the stained glass windows with the mermaid picture. Draco started humming a tune he had heard a while ago. One of the Muggle born kids from Hufflepuff had been singing it to his wizard friends who had looked at him with bored faces. Why were so many people reluctant to open their minds to new things? Music was full of facets. How could you ignore 90% of them whilst being completely obsessed with the remaining 10%? It absolutely escaped him. As he was humming the melody, which was a very simple tune that was repeated over and over again (there were no words to it as far as he knew), another song he had heard recently crossed his mind. 

You say, that we've got nothing in common  
No common ground to start from  
And we're falling apart...

When he had first heard the song, it had made him think of Hermione Granger. He didn't even know why she still haunted his dreams. Of course he had recognized her immediately, when he had first met her. Although he had been focusing on becoming popular with Potter – and had failed big time – he had not needed more than a split second to see who was the girl with the bushy brown hair. She had changed. Of course she had changed. But he had still recognized the dancer whom he had once watched through a window on a cold winter's day. And he had hated her, because she made it impossible to look down onto all the Muggle born kids the way he should have done. Because he knew, that they had something in common. 

She had not recognized him. She probably had never even seen him properly through the window. And it had been dark and he had been wearing a woolly hat that had covered his hair. Or perhaps her brain was unable to make the connection between him and the boy from back then.

Malfoy had struggled to treat her as badly as possible to get his mind off her. It had worked fine until the moment when the Death Eaters had appeared at the Quidditch World Cup and he had felt the urge to make sure she was safe. He had been able to keep up appearances, but almost had lost his face, when she had appeared at the Yule Ball. When he had seen her dance with Victor Krum all the feelings he had tried to stow away in some dark corner of his mind had just burst out and he had been very close to making an idiot out of himself and asking her to dance. It was frustrating how much he actually thought about Hermione Granger these days. It was certainly something he needed to keep hidden from the Dark Lord. He had become quite good at Occlumency, but he wasn't sure how much Voldemort had seen. 

Draco sighed. There was no way in this world he would ever be able to admit any of this. After all he had made sure that Hermione hated him. That was a plus. He could probably not have stayed away from her this easily had she had anything but contempt left for him.

Hermione had sworn to herself, never to go out again to walk through the hallways. She knew whom the mysterious voice belonged to. She would have loved for it to be someone – anyone – else than Draco Malfoy but as it was, there was no way there would be a happy ending to this.

But sometimes you act although your brain is yelling at you that what you are doing is entirely pointless and so she had lingered in the library way too long this day and had then taken a detour to the Common Room under some pretext that anyone could see through. Whom was she trying to fool. The fact was, even though she knew that her singing prince was none other than the biggest idiot that ever walked the earth, she still wanted to hear his voice again. 

When she entered the corridor that led down to the bathroom, she heard a melody that sounded familiar. She stopped in her stride. It was clearly the voice she had grown used to. But this was not right. It could not be that Draco Malfoy, thinking he was unobserved, was actually humming Muggle music and not just any old Muggle music (after all, she would not have been surprised to hear him sing a Mozart opera because the classics were something different). She could distinctly make out the beginning of Robert Miles' “Children” that had stormed the English charts quite recently. How did Draco Malfoy know that tune?

Her surprise got even bigger, when the boy leaped into a song next. With that incredibly voice that betrayed a lot of classical training and even more prodigious talent, the indie-rock song that had been stuck in her head the whole summer, sounded fresh and new as if she had never heard it before. 

You say, that we've got nothing in common  
No common ground to start from  
And we're falling apart

You say, the world has come between us  
Our lives have come between us  
But you know I just don't care

She stood there, unable to move a single inch. What if she just wet into the bathroom now? She was a prefect after all. She knew the password although she usually didn't use the room. There were too many mirrors for her taste. But still...  
Ignoring the part of her brain that had started shouting abuse at her, she covered the space to the door, let her hand rest on the handle and murmured: “In somnium migro”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually looked up the charts for this... and I was happy to find that two of my all-time favourites would be able to make it into the story. :-)


	6. Between Worlds

Chapter 6: Between Worlds

 

Hermione hardly ever used the prefect’s bathroom. The only times she had soaked in the huge tub had been during the day though, when sunlight fell through the window into which – in the style of tiffany – the shape of a mermaid combing her hair had been worked. Hermione had not been surprised to find out the glass mermaid was able to move and seemed to react to her surroundings.  She had had five years to adjust to this strange world that coexisted with the Muggle world, invisible by choice and blind by ignorance. How could a whole community just get stuck in Victorian times? At the beginning she had thought that the Wizarding World just progressed at a slower pace. By now, she had learnt differently: They didn’t progress at all. If anything, they might be moving backwards. Those who took any interest in modern inventions – although electricity as in “lightbulbs” and “plugs” was hardly modern if you thought about it -  were looked upon as weird and sometimes even as dangerous.

The prefect’s bathroom at night was completely different from what it was by day. Usually the sunlight got reflected by the marble stone floor and the bronze-coloured armatures. Now, candles lit up the place and changed its whole appearance entirely. By day, the bathroom seemed huge. Huge enough for Hermione to almost feel lost when she had used it last.

The mermaid was sitting on a stone and did not even turn her head to see who had opened the door. Hermione followed her gaze and blushed, then called herself an idiot. There was nothing to see. Nothing worth blushing for. Draco was sitting in the tub, leaning against one of the walls. His eyes were closed. The bath was full of blue and green bubbles that covered everything except the boy’s head and chest. For a split second, Hermione considered turning around on the spot and leaving. He had not seen her yet.  And – Merlin’s beard – what was she doing here anyway? But before her brain could signal her legs to move, Draco opened his eyes. A look of utter surprise appeared on his features.

“Granger”, he said voicelessly.

He had heard someone come in. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges – well-oiled because Draco did not care much for Mr. Filch to come jumping at him right after he left his recluse at night – but there was always a little draft when it opened. Draco had felt it a couple of times before. Usually it was Blaise or Theo who were in urgent need of counselling either in terms of girls or in terms of homework. Draco never understood how he had become the expert that people went to with their issues with the opposite gender. Apart from his brief flings with Pansy – which happened less and less frequently as she became more and more clingy and annoying – he did not have any experience in terms of relationships. He knew how to flirt. He knew how to snog. But he did not have any clue as to how girl’s brains worked or how to court. He had been brought up by his parents to behave gentlemanly just to find out that a lot of girls were much too independent to need anyone opening doors and carrying bags for them. He knew bugger all… but most of his friends assumed he was a source of endless wisdom.

When he opened his eyes, it took him a second to align his expectations with reality. Hermione Granger had come into the bathroom. Of course, she knew the password, as she was a Prefect, too. But what had brought her here after hours? She seemed to hesitate. Her face showed a mixture of anxiety and curiosity that he could not quite place. The candlelight made her hair shimmer with golden reflections. Damned, Malfoy!

“Granger”, he said voicelessly, not knowing what else to say.

She pulled up her shoulders as if preparing for an attack. Was she scared of him? Why was she scared? Ah, yes, she knew his story. She knew where he came from. And he had never really treated her with anything but contempt to mask his affection. Of course she could not know it had been an act. The role of Muggle-hating bad boy had been invented for him. It had never been difficult to pretend he disliked her.

“I’m sorry”, she said. “I heard you singing… I was curious.”

It was not the whole truth. He could sense there was more. But he left it at that.

“Don’t you dare tell a soul I sing in the bathroom”, he said, his voice a mocking threat.

She grinned and relaxed. It had not taken much to make her at ease. But then, she was Hermione Granger. She was fierce, fearless. She had faced worse than the adolescent offspring of a Death Eater. Her glance had briefly darted to his clothes that were neatly piled on one of the chairs and she had definitely registered that his wand was lying right on top of it. He was defenseless and naked. There was absolutely no reason to be afraid of anything except verbal abuse. And she had faced so much verbal abuse from him in the past, that she’d brush it off with a shrug. So yeah, she was safe.

“Did not expect you to sing Muggle tunes”, she said, taking a few steps into the room and sitting down on the plushy chair that usually was Blaise’s favourite place for counselling.

He smiled.

“There’s some pretty decent stuff out there that was written by your kind. As we wizards are such a minority, there isn’t as much variety and as much choice in terms of musicians as well. I mean, hey, you’ve got so many great things. You’ve got Elvis. You’ve got Johnny Cash. You’ve got Billy Joel. You’ve got Bruce bloody Springsteen.”

Hermione laughed.

“We’ve got Vanilla Ice and Snoop Dog.”

Draco joined in.

“Admittedly it seems like quality on one end of the scale leads to some serious bullshit on the other end of it.”

That was the beginning. Somehow they started talking about which bands they liked most and how ridiculous it was that there seemed no proper way to listen to Muggle music on Hogwarts grounds. Hermione had tried to make a CD-Player work and had found out that all the magic around her seemed to interfere with the device. Also, as there was no electricity anywhere in the castle, she had had to rely on batteries, which was undeniably stupid and also bad for the environment. Draco explained how she could work a spell to record music by magic and made her promise she’d use it during the next holidays to introduce him to some new songs. She promised to do so, then remembered that underage magic was forbidden by law and that being expelled over her favourite Bon Jovi song was not worth it. He told her that the mark only worked as long as there was no grown-up wizard around.

“They can track a spell, but they can’t track it that well. If one of the older Weasleys would stand right next to you while you’re doing it, nobody would be able to distinguish whether they cast a spell or you did it.”

She had not known that before and thought immediately about how Molly and Arthur kept all of their children believing they would be persecuted if they used their wands during the holiday season. What a strange custom. Usually you should think that practicing during the holidays would be appreciated by everyone.

They came back to music and found their tastes were pretty similar. Time flew by. At some point, Draco noticed the water had gone cold and Hermione turned around to face the wall while he slipped into his clothes. The awkwardness of the situation returned with a pang when she faced him again.

“I…”, she started. “I’ll head back to the Gryffindor tower now. It’s incredibly late already.”

He did not try to stop her, feeling that the moment of peace, this strange time in between worlds that they had spent together, was slipping away. He considered asking her whether he should escort her to her Common Room and decided against it. Instead, he lazily waved good bye. Right before she opened the door to slip out into the corridor, he opened his mouth to ask her if they’d talk again soon, then closed it without a syllable crossing his lips. She was gone in a blink and Draco was left standing in the middle of the marble floor staring at the door wondering whether he’d just imagined the last couple of hours.

 

 

_A./N. Merlin’s beard, it’s been more than a year since the last update of this story. I always said, it’s not abandoned, so I hope this chapter is proof enough I was telling you the truth. Thanks for everyone who took the time to read it and comment on it. Knowing that people were interested in seeing this progress was definitely one of the reasons why progress finally happened. The pace of “Reverberate” is very different from my usual writing as you might have noticed which makes it harder to write because I have to be in a very special mood for this. Also, I was not sure how to make that first encounter work. I hope I got it right and made it kind of believable. I guess the next update won’t take as long as this one did although my main focus is still on “LGT” at the moment._


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